Movement out near the forest caught her eye. A large patrol was just leaving her line of sight, vanishing between the mighty trunks. That had to be her father. They were off to the ship already. They’d arrive soon, and wreak who-knew-what sort of havoc on the place.
It was a bitter thought, that her word to the stranger had been broken. But what could she do? Her father still ruled. Could she go against his wishes?
Tamara stood there watching until the last person vanished from sight, all the while thinking hard. Only drastic action might redeem her honor now, but if she acted against her father in this, he might never forgive her.
“Which is greater to me, my honor or my security?” Tamara whispered into the wind.
It didn’t take her long to come up with the answer to that question. Regardless of what else came of it, her honor demanded action. Even if that action cost her everything, she could not stand idly by and watch this wrongdoing without taking a stand against it.
She loved her father, but he was wrong. This decision was wrong. She would find a way to show him that, to open his eyes to the truth. Or perhaps she would fail. But either way, her honor would be intact.
Decided on her course, Tamara stepped from the wall back into the gloom of the tunnel. She had a mission to perform, and a promise to fulfill.
Fourteen
The pounding headache wasn’t new. If anything, Scott was becoming used to gradually waking back up to a splitting skull. It was happening far too often these days.
“Ugh,” he mumbled. It was about as coherent as he could manage.
The surroundings were new, however. He lay on a cold stone floor. The rock was rough-hewn under his fingers. He tried to get to his feet and couldn’t. They were bound together with rough rope, as were his hands.
Only a little light illuminated the cell where they’d tossed him, shining from somewhere outside through slits in the door. Scott looked around the small space. There wasn’t much to see. The room was barely long enough for him to lie down lengthwise and was half as wide. It wasn’t high enough to stand up in even if he wasn’t tied up.
“I’ve been tossed in a closet,” Scott said.
Toby was nowhere to be seen. Scott felt a rush of real anger at that. Hector must have his dog. Toby was his damned dog, a present from his mother. And that asshole had taken Toby away and locked him in a closet.
“We’ll just have to see about that,” Scott grumbled.
The first step had to be freeing his hands and feet. Fortunately, that part shouldn’t be too hard.
The walls were even rougher stone than the floor. Scott scooched his way to the back wall and felt around, looking for a sharp spot. It took a bit of fumbling in the dark, but he managed. Then it was just a matter of slowly rubbing the ropes against the rock until they frayed.
Hands free, Scott shook them out to get full feeling back in the digits. Those ropes had been far tighter than they needed to be! Then he untied the knots binding his feet. He coiled that rope and slipped it into a pocket. It might be useful later.
That was one plus. They’d left him in his suit from the ship. He hadn’t brought much along with him. There hadn’t really been time, what with the spear-carrying people accosting him. But he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. One of them was the radio in his collar. He keyed the microphone.
“Toby, can you hear me?” Scott asked.
No response. He felt a moment of fear for Toby’s safety, but he didn’t think these people would have done anything to harm the robot. He was obviously valuable. They weren’t going to risk breaking him. No, it was more likely that he was just deep enough underground that the transmissions weren’t reaching his dog.
Time to try the door. Scott went over and carefully shoved on the thing, but it was barred or locked on the other side. He’d figured it would be, but it was worth checking. How best to unlock a cell door? He felt like he was in one of those survivor TV shows, where the contestants had to come up with cunning solutions to problems laid before them.
Except a lot more was riding on this game than a paycheck. Toby’s safety, his life, his future — everything counted on the decisions he made in the next little while.
The thought should have scared the shit out of him, but Scott found the idea oddly liberating instead. His mother had been right after all. Not really a shock, that. She usually was.
All his life, Scott had been doing things that were easy for him. Quick success, little chance of failure, and no cost involved even if he did fail. The rocket trip had been something else. If it had failed, he would have died. One way or another, whether it exploded or just didn’t work, he would’ve been dead from the blast or his disease. That sense of purpose and real danger had tasted sweet.
He’d lost that sense over most of the last two years. The ship was boring 99.9 percent of the time, and about to kill him the other fraction of a percent. Long periods of boredom punctuated by brief moments of absolute terror. Where had he heard that before?
But now that he was back on Earth, he felt alive again all the time. These problems mattered, from the dragon to being imprisoned in this cell. Failure was going to have nasty consequences. It felt good to have his decisions matter.
Scott wondered if that made him a little crazy.
He took stock of what he had. The suit and its radio. The rope he’d collected from his legs, and the fragments of rope that had bound his hands. The suit itself was sort of a tool, too. It was laced with tubes to help support his body temperature in both hot and cold environments. It also had a small tool packet inserted into a slot on his arm.
The tools weren’t much. Just a set of small, flat, metal devices designed to handle basic maintenance in an emergency. Scott could see the size of the bar holding his cell shut when he peeked through the crack. It had to weigh at least twenty or thirty pounds. There was no way he was moving that with a sliver of metal like the screwdriver from his kit.
“Give me a big enough lever, and I can move the world,” Scott mused.
The screwdriver might not move the bar by itself, but as part of a system? He had a tiny wire cutter in the kit as well. Using that, he sliced up the bits of torn rope into smaller chunks. Then he slid the wire cutters into the crack at the top of the door, packing them carefully into place with the shredded rope.
Once that was fairly secure, he took the other rope from his pocket and tied a loop in one end. Then he tried pushing the loop through the crack at the edge of the door. It was close. The knot didn’t want to pass, at first. He had to take it back out and carefully retie the loop to make the knot as small as possible.
This time it slipped out and dangled down over the bar. Scott paused a moment, hoping there wasn’t anyone standing outside watching him do all this work. If there was, he’d probably know about it soon enough. He gave it about thirty seconds. Nobody started laughing at him, so he figured he was safe to proceed. He looped the other end of his rope up over the wire-cutters.
Scott slid the screwdriver underneath the bar. Then he hooked the loop over the far side of the screwdriver. He pulled on the rope until he had tension, the rope running from the looped screwdriver up to the wire-cutters and then back down to his hand.
“A lever alone won’t work. But a lever and a pulley?” Scott said. “By Jove, I think we’ve got it!”
He pulled on the rope, adding tension. The far end of the screwdriver went up. He lifted the near end as well, keeping it even with the end lifted by the rope. The first few inches weren’t hard, but by the time it was six inches up, Scott was sweating. How high was he going to need to lift this thing?
At a foot, Scott was nearing the end of his strength. Pulling the rope wasn’t hard, but holding up the inside edge of the screwdriver was painful. The tool was biting into his hand, and every second felt like it was going to slice him open. He gave one more massive effort, jerking the rope down and pushing up with his palm at the same time. The bar lifted another six inches and then tumbled away.
The door slipped open a couple of inches, but the bar smashed into the floor with a crash that had to have carried outside.
Fifteen
There wasn’t much time. Someone would’ve heard that noise. Scott shoved hard on the door. It moved only a few more inches. The bar was on the floor, making a scraping sound as it slid over each bump in the rock floor. Scott sighed. There was no way to keep this quiet. He pushed again, even harder.
The door ground open. As it did, the wire-cutters fell and almost hit him in the head. Scott quickly stashed them, the rope, and his other tools back into a pocket while checking out the room.
Except it wasn’t a room. It was a short hallway with two more doors set into the same wall as the one he’d just escaped from. More cells? What if Toby was trapped in one? The only available light was from an oil lamp halfway down the passage. It was just enough that he might be able to peer into the other cells without opening them.
He raced to the next cell door and peered through the gap on the side. Nobody was immediately visible.
“Toby?” he whispered. No answer. The third door was the same. Apparently he was the only prisoner down there.
The passage ended in another door. Scott cast about for anything that looked like a weapon. There really wasn’t much he could use on the cell block. The oil lamp might start a small fire, but it was a crappy weapon. The bar which had held his cell closed? He tried picking it up.
The thing was as heavy as it looked. Solid iron, and it had to be at least twenty pounds. He wasn’t sure he could swing it more than a few times, but it was better than nothing.
Scott went to the door and placed a hand on the ring set into its wooden face. The best tool he had was the element of surprise. No one would expect him to escape so quickly and so soon, he figured. One hand gripping the bar as tight as he could, he swung the door open as fast as he could.
Tamara was standing there, her hand raised as if she was about to open the door herself. Her glance went to his face, then down his arm to the metal bar. Without missing a beat, Tamara lashed out with her right foot, striking Scott’s left wrist — the arm that was holding the bar. His fingers went numb, and he couldn’t maintain his grip anymore. The bar clattered to the floor again.
“Ow!” he said, gripping his wounded arm.
“What are you doing?” Tamara asked.
“What’s it look like? I’m escaping! Why are you here?” Scott asked her.
She chuckled. “To help you escape. But it appears I was almost too late to do so. Come. Follow me.”
Tamara turned away and walked down the passage, her footfalls rapid and silent. Scott wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was she telling him the truth? Or just leading him to more guards so they could take him prisoner again?
If it was the latter, she could just do the job herself. That kick hurt! She wouldn’t have a hard time taking him down, and she probably knew it. That meant she most likely was really trying to help. The question was then why — but that could be answered once he was out of this place.
Scott followed along in her trail. He was nowhere near as quiet as Tamara, and kept scuffing his feet on random rough patches of the floor. Every time he did, she looked back at him and held a finger to her lips. Yes, he knew they needed to be quiet. He was trying!
“Here,” Tamara said, kneeling down. “Put this on. It will hide some of your strangeness.”
She held up a shoulder to floor woven garment that looked more like an oversized dress than anything else. Scott held it up and eyed it. Then he looked over at Tamara.
“Is this a dress? Because it looks like a dress,” he said.
“Put it on!” she hissed, her eyes flashing.
Scott grumbled but did as she bid. The cloth was smelly, but it did have a hood that helped keep his face hidden. In the relative darkness of the main tunnel, he would barely be noticed. That was the easy part, though. What about the guards at the door?
The main tunnel was as dark as he recalled. Two sets of armed men marched past them, hurrying on their way to some post or job. Neither of the pairs seemed to take much notice of Scott, although one man did call out to them as they passed.
“Good day, ladies,” he said.
Scott waited until they were well gone before whispering to Tamara. “This is a dress, isn’t it!”
“Yes. Once they know you’re gone, they’ll be looking for a man, not a woman. No one who just passed you will recall you,” Tamara said. “It’s the best disguise.”
She wasn’t wrong. Scott had to admit it was a pretty smart idea, to be honest. Nobody was paying them any attention at all as they marched through the tunnel, passing patches of little dwellings on either side of the main path.
That was about to change, though. Up ahead was the gate. Scott didn’t see how the dress could possibly hide him from the eyes of the guard there.
But when they arrived, there was no guard. Scott looked about, but didn’t see him anywhere. “How?”
“Piper owed me a favor,” Tamara said. “She’s lured Petyr away and is no doubt currently making him a very happy man. Although once my father finds out he was gone from his post, he’ll wish he’d been more dutiful.”
“Why? You’ve gone to all this effort to get me loose. You’re bound to get in trouble, too. Why help me?” Scott asked.
“Because it was wrong of my father to do as he did. Our desperation does not excuse such treatment of a guest to our home,” Tamara said. “I am acting only as I think he would act, if he were not so afraid.”
Afraid of what? Nothing she was saying made much sense. Was her father scared of dragons? If that was the case, wouldn’t getting the brand new dragon slayer on his side be better than beating him up and locking him in a cell? Scott was missing part of this story.
But before he could ask any more questions, she opened the gate and led the way out. At the exit, Tamara placed a hand on Scott’s chest, glancing both ways before allowing him out.
“No guards. Come on!” she said. She pulled him out of the exist passage, then shut the door again. It closed with a clang as the locking mechanism swung back into place. Then she dashed off toward the forest.
Scott took off after her. He was free! It had been even easier than he’d thought it would be. But freedom was only the beginning. Toby was still in there somewhere. He had to get his dog back. Then he had to see about getting his ship ready to leave this god-forsaken armpit.
Sixteen
They’d been running for long enough that Scott had lost his way in the woods. The towering trees blocked his line of sight, so he couldn’t even see landmarks to navigate from. He had no idea how Tamara was finding her way around, but without her he’d be lost.
Finally, tired and worried, he stopped and called out to her. “Wait.”
“What?” she replied, all but tapping her foot on the ground. “I need to get you to safety and then get back before I am missed.”
“Where are you taking me? Where is Toby? Why are you helping me in the first place?” Scott asked all three questions rapid-fire.
“I told you, I am helping you because my father is wrong. As for the rest? I am hoping to get you back to your ship before my father gets there with his repair crew. They left at first light, but they are carrying tools, equipment, and supplies, so they’re moving slowly.”
Oh, that wasn’t good. Scott didn’t know what they would make of a rocket ship, but he was fairly secure in the idea that they had no prayer of fixing it. Any repairs they made would only make his job more difficult. Still, there might be a way to get them to back off…
“What about Toby?” he asked.
“The dog? My father has him. He seemed too valuable to leave behind,” Tamara said. “Now enough of this. We still have another mile to go. Come on!”
She turned and rushed off again, her pace a steady but light jog. Tamara looked like she could keep that up for hours. Scott was again wishing he’d spent more hours on the treadmill. He was huffing
a little, but at least he was keeping up with her.
Then she was slowing down. Scott stopped when Tamara raised her hand. She crept forward, one foot at a time, and peered out from behind a tree. She looked down the hill from their position for what felt like a long time. Then she turned back to Scott, holding one finger to her lips while beckoning him closer with the other hand.
Scott went to join her, making as little noise as he could through the underbrush. It wasn’t easy, and he winced every time a twig snapped. At last he was leaning against the trunk beside Tamara.
“They beat us here,” Tamara said.
Was that a hint of accusation in her voice? Scott sighed and looked around the edge of the tree. Sure enough, Hector and a dozen of his goons were down there. They were unrolling leather wraps filled with metal tools. Damn, it looked like they really did have the stuff on hand to at least do some damage to his ship. Enough blows from one of those hammers in the right places, and the Stargazer would be nothing but scrap.
“I’ve got to stop them,” Scott said. “They’ll destroy my ship. It’s my only shot at getting where I need to go.”
Tamara shrugged. “How? Two against a dozen isn’t a good fight.”
“We have Toby, too,” Scott said.
“I was counting him. You think I’m joining you in getting a beating from my father? Ha! I don’t think so,” Tamara replied.
Scott chuckled and rubbed his sore head where one of the guards had clubbed him earlier. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. You did a lot just by helping me get out. Good luck, then.”
“Wait — that’s it? You’re going in by yourself anyway? You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days, Scott Free.”
“Probably. But in the meantime, I have a best friend to rescue. No matter what else, I’m not leaving Toby behind.”
He did have an idea. The radio was really close to his dog now. It would almost certainly work. Scott keyed the microphone.
The Quantum Dragonslayer Page 6
